Down The Bunny Hole
by Swamy
Summary: There's something about her that reminds him of himself. She's a river of power twirled on itself for the sake of someone that discards her more easily and more often than she relaizes [cover by alla-matta]
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** This fiction is based on Stefan's line to Elena "You don't know what I look like when I'm not in love with you". I hope you'll like it. I wrote this first chapter on a whim, and I hope I can update it anytime I can "steal" someone's pc for a bit (I'm still without mine). Since I am a bamon shipper I will probably somehow involve Damon too, later on.

As usual, _Thanks to_ _Syeira Lei._

###

His walk is elegant and agile as he moves through his bedroom.

Rebekah saw him walk with that same grace the first night they met in Chicago, the only difference is that he was actually wearing clothes then; while now, the light of the day stresses every tiny detail as he dries himself after the hot shower. But, really, there's not much of Stefan that's _tiny_ – she thinks with a rush of satisfaction.

She clearly remembers his fingertips caressing the wood balustrade, before he leaned over – light as a feather as his mere presence cut the air - to admire the band performing. Gloria, standing on the stage, had eyed him instantly; she - whom lived to sing – had broken the spell created by her black voice, ungracefully interrupted _St. James Infirmary_ just to publicly flirt with him and make herself available. Rebekah had wanted him so bad that night that it almost made her sick to her stomach.

Right now, as she lies naked between the sheets of his bed, she can feel that sensation resurfacing with a vehemence that makes her feel defeated, and the same light that shows her the hard muscles of his lean body will not reveal her the contents of his locked heart.

"I want your heart," she says boldly, as her hand lazily caresses the empty space next to her.

His lips stretch with a sort of arrogant grace on his face and he stops drying the skin of his chest. Stefan turns his face slightly, pinning her down on the mattress with his clear eyes. His gaze makes her breath erratic and her skin warm, and she involuntarily tighten her legs in response.

"It seemed to me that there was another organ which interested you more," he replies, looking at her the same way he looked at the world that night in 1920 – like it was his playfield- before going back to his occupation.

When he uses the towel on the organ which had _interested her more_ she bites her lower lip. He's slow and deliberate and very much in control; it is a blow for her ego but an allurement for her desire. She's wrapped around his _very _talented fingers and they both know it.

"I'm greedy," she says, rising on her elbow to stare at him as he dries his thighs, "I want both."

"My heart is not on the plate," he replies, so suave that her body dares to respond to his tone with a quiver. "I'm terribly sorry," he adds, with a tone that's anything but. "Be so kind as to let me apologize properly," he says, letting the towel fall to the floor to walk to the bed and join her once again.

#

There's no need to bring back the Ripper to have a little fun, he thinks as he dresses himself observing his image in the mirror. He grins thinking of Elena's face as he escorted Rebekah to the door.

Life still tastes sweet, he realized as he reminisces about Rebekah's taste against his tongue. It's been very long since a woman had willingly proposed for him to drink from the inner thigh. Oh, there are more than a few benefits in bedding a vampire, especially when it's as wild as Rebekah.

"I can't believe it!" Caroline enters his room without knocking and he barely glimpses at her before going back to buttoning his shirt.

"Tell me it's not true," she says, standing behind him with her fists on her sides.

"It's not true," he answers immediately, with a blank tone. She knows he will say anything to avoid this conversation.

"Rebekah? Seriously?" she asks, "Do I need to list all the reasons why that's a monumentally bad idea?".

He doesn't bother to reply, but observes her with a sort of amusement that makes her feel frustrated. Stefan turns and goes sit in a chair, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his closed fist, as his elbow is shored up on the chair arm.

He looks like he could teach a lesson or two about bearing to Henry VIII himself.

"Please, go ahead," he says, with an elegant gesture, inviting her to make her speech.

Caroline grimaces, looking at him as she's pleading, "I know that Elena broke your heart, but this is not a good reason to be involved with Rebekah. She's bad Stefan."

Stefan stares at her for a few moments before asking "That's all? I was expecting a longer list, edited in alphabetical order. After all, organization has always been your area of expertise."

"She is going to backstab you," she warns you.

He grins at her. "Then she'd better stand in line," he says, with a light, bitter tone. Caroline must take away her eyes to not give up entirely on her purpose for talking him out of it. He's right, after all, the people he loved the most in the world betrayed him without a second thought, and the only thing she can do now is appeal to his conscience.

"You're going to hurt her," she says, "You can't give her what she really wants."

"I gave her exactly what she asked for," he replies with a shrug, "And she asked for _it_ a lot, I assure you."

Caroline shakes her head but she has no time to reply before he speaks again, "Elena did not break my heart, she _crushed it_," he explains with a hard look, daring her to make any excuse for her friend, "But I don't resent her. Your heart can be your strength as well as your weakness, and now I am without weakness. I am actually enjoying my condition greatly. In fact, I should probably send her a card, but since you're here – _on her request,"_ he adds smiling, amused by her childish try to make him do what she wants by using Caroline, "You can bring her my sincere thanks, for both her interest in my love life and her decision to leave it."

He gracefully stands from the chair, walks to her and kisses her cheekbone, before leaving the room.

#

Caroline's worry is endearing and understandable, even if it's been fueled by Elena's need to be the absolute center of attention even after she decided to walk all over his heart for his dear brother. Tyler's try is laughable, because Rebekah can be Klaus' sister but she's still a hot girl and he cannot find the sincerity to tell him to stop having fun with her. Jeremy can try all he wants to be rational and balanced but Stefan only nods his way through the boring one-way conversation and once the boy has left him alone he realizes he's still nodding. Matt shows up too, but he doesn't even touch the subject – decency is always been one of his strongest traits after all and he's got enough to not interfere.

Bonnie is another story entirely. Rebekah is seductively whispering against his ear and he's trying to decide if he will be generous enough to play along or not, when Bonnie enters his bedroom.

"Sweetheart," she addresses the vampire, "Out of here before _I warm up to you,"_ she says, sarcastically, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

Rebekah bats her lashes with conceit, bothered, "You do realize I can break your neck before you can even think to stop me," she warns her.

Bonnie crosses her arms under her breast feeding her a molasses smile, "I would like to see you try."

"I'm just going to imagine you two naked," he informs them, making them both turn towards him. Then he grins, amused.

"I'll see you," he tells the blonde vampire, letting her know she must leave. She's clearly annoyed but she does.

"Stefan-"

"I was actually wondering when you would show up; after all, you're the secret weapon," he tells Bonnie, observing her with curiosity. "Please," he says, turning his back on her to open a drawer and pick a shirt, "Don't let me interrupt you. I'll change in the meanwhile, since I have plans for the night. You don't mind, do you?" he asks, taking off his shirt before she has the time to answer his obviously rhetorical question.

"What are you doing?" she burst, making him turn around. He sports his best clueless look.

"I'm changing," he explains, letting the shirt he took off fall and hang on the headstock of his acoustic guitar.

"I can see that," she says, unable to calm down her alarmed tone. Bonnie can feel her cheeks warming up but she tries her best to not give away her embarrassed state, "I meant with Rebekah."

She's pretty positive he was not a gladiator when he was alive so she really has no idea how he can possess such a well-defined, impossibly muscular body. But that's not the point, she reminds herself with a mental shake.

"Generally we have se-"

"I got that," she cuts him.

"Then I don't know what else to say," he says, with a bored look, finally putting on the shirt he picked.

"Do you think having a relationship with her it's a smart move? She's our enemy and you can be sure that once we have the cure she will take it away at the first opportunity."

"I do not have a relationship with her," he clarifies, "You must be confused."

"Elena-"

"Yes," he says patiently as his eyes mock her misplaced candor, "Elena. Of course. If you need her you'll find her in my brother's bed. As for me, I don't know who's bed I'll grace tonight but I have to go and find out," he says. "With your permission," he adds with a graceful bow, walking past her.

"Wait," she calls, making him stop in his tracks. This time, when he looks at her over his shoulder, there's no reproaching, no condescension. This time, when he looks at her, he doesn't see Elena's lap dog, only Bonnie. He thinks that straight hair makes her look more sleek and sophisticated.

"Yes?"

"Does it make you feel better?" she asks, with a light in her eyes which makes him turn to watch her with more attention.

He grins at her uncertainty. There's something about her that reminds him of himself. She's a river of power twirled on itself for the sake of someone that discards her more easily and more often than she realizes.

"Living for myself?" he asks, "Indulging in the power of seduction? Reveling in the pleasure of sex? Having no promises to keep or pains to bear in the name of a love only I care about?" he asks, looking at her like he knows her secret, "Yes, it does."

Stefan exudes confidence, but not in the arrogant way Damon does, which makes her hands itch and pushes her to use him like her personal stress reliever. Instead, Stefan makes her want to hide inside her skin cover both her eyes and her ear to prevent herself from being drawn to him. The way he stares through her makes her feel like she's naked in front of him — not in dirty way — but like he can actually read her mind.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" she asks, suddenly unreasonably dismayed by him.

"I'm waiting for you to live for yourself, too," he answers simply, "And maybe indulge and revel," he suggests.

But she chuckles at him, arousing his interest. His interest is easy to catch but close to impossible to keep and she's _so_ promising.

"Why not? Is it such an unpleasant perspective?" He urges her as he slightly bends over to watch her closely. "When was the last time you did something just for yourself?"

"A life lived only for yourself is a wasted life," she says and he smiles his first genuine smile in a long time.

"Yes," he nods, "But what about a life not lived at all? Isn't that wasted too?"

Bonnie feels like Eve talking to the snake, like there's something dark hiding behind those clear, intense eyes, behind his reasonable words. He can read both her distrust and her interest so very easily; she, who's used to feel like Athena, acting like the virgin patron of the city, is doubting herself, because she can feel in the right, but she's nowhere close to feeling happy and no one cares enough to say it aloud.

"You're the magic prodigy and the best friend anyone ever had, so can't you take a break and have fun every once in a while?"

"I do have fun," she insists sounding like a lying child to her own ears.

"And who could ever deny that," he says, sarcastically, "I'm constantly disabled by your blinding smile."

"You're hurt and you're behaving in a way you would never if things were different," she tells him, regaining her composure.

"There's no denying that," he admits with a nod, clasping his hands behind his back. The tight shirt he's wearing stretches more because of his position, exalting his muscular chest, "But things are not different," he reminds her, "and, after all, you're not finding a trail of dead bodies with my signature on it, and I'm of a fairly good humor, all considered. The world isn't falling off its axis just because I'm enjoying myself. You should try it once," he says, "Just once_, take__up space_," he spells out "demand attention, feel good about yourself. What's wrong with that?" he asks, his voice impossibly gentle.

He raises one hand to stop her from talking when she opens her mouth. "You don't need to argue with me on this. I know what you're about to say," he explains with a smile, "Let me know if you ever change your mind," he adds, taking his leather jacket from the back of a chair and leaving.

#

"I think you should let him do what he wants," she tells her and Elena can't even look at her. She turns her face, refusing to meet her eyes as she insists Stefan is doing what he's doing just to hurt her, like she's all he thinks about, like his world turns around her, like there's no other way.

She doesn't know if it's confidence or arrogance – maybe it's just that there's really no other way. After all, Matt still looks her way with nostalgia, and Damon has been holding on for so long just for her to give him a chance, and Stefan is her soulmate. Yet, whatever it is, Bonnie feels a bit of envy, and disgust.

"Even so, you don't love him anymore, so he can't hurt you."

"But he's hurting himself, and I'm worried. Maybe I'm not his girlfriend anymore but I still care for him," she says, her head high, her look proud, like she actually believes her words. "He's my friend and I'm trying to look out for him."

Bonnie wants to shake her, tell her she's merely defending what she thinks is her territory - she's so used to keeping both of the brothers on the leash that it upsets her to see Stefan getting away from her –but she doesn't have the courage to argue with her.

"I know," she just says, feeling hypocritical. She's always speaking of truth and the right things but when it comes to Elena she just hides her head in the sand.

"Here you are," Damon's voice interrupts them and it's one of those very rare occasions when Bonnie is relieved to see him.

He sits on the arm of the sofa and lean to get a kiss from Elena, as Bonnie rolls her eyes to not witness the unpleasant show. She likes to think herself as open-minded – she's a witch, after all – but whenever she sees Elena and Damon together she can't hush up that tiny voice, asking her if it was too much trouble to wait a little before jumping into the bed of the older Salvatore and maybe avoiding going at it two rooms away from Stefan's bedroom.

She can understand Damon's haste – he's been rejected all his life and she knows the hunger that can grow from there - but not Elena's, for she has been loved and adored every single second of her life, and Stefan loved her like no other.

Walking over that - sire bond or not - it's something Bonnie will never understand.

"Judgy," Damon greets her, "It's a pleasure to see you."

"I wish I could say the same," she replies, standing ready to leave.

"You hurt me."

"Don't give me any ideas, Damon," she answers, rolling her eyes before walking away. She can feel his eyes on her back before hearing Elena's giggle. Quickly looking back over her shoulder, she sees Elena turning Damon's face, holding him by his chin, to make him look at her again and kiss him.

It's like she can't go a whole minute without him worshipping at her altar. She's only glad Stefan is not there.

#

He said he would stop by her house and so she washed her hair, took her time to curl it, put on makeup and wore and pink lace t-shirt he had told her he liked. It takes her one hour to prepare a cheesecake but she doesn't mind because it was his favorite and she imagines the smile on his face smelling the warm scent of it in her kitchen.

She has already made peace with the fact that she will be spending her night watching a basketball game because he loves it. After all, leaning against him for two hours, enjoying the contact and the warmth of his young body against hers not a bad option at all and she finds herself smiling at the prospect.

If Stefan could see her now he would know that she does have fun, and she does smile, and she does live her life and is happy.

But as she waits and waits and waits some more for Jeremy to show up, the smile falls away and even if her eyes are low on the floor she can't find it anymore. It's nothing new, really, she should not be mad or sad about it. He always took her for granted and she never told him otherwise. She has never asked for him, and he's just a boy who will not try to fix a thing that's not broken. Only, he would know she's broken if only he bothered enough to take a good look at her.

She takes the phone to call him, ask him where he is and if he's alright, but she's pretty sure he is. after all, if he or anyone else needed help she'd be the first one they'd call. They only call to ask for favors. The last time somebody checked on her just for the sake of it was four years ago, when she was in bed with the flu, way before Stefan came back into town. That time, she suspected Elena had called her only to have an excuse to get away from Matt because she was growing bored of him; so, maybe it doesn't count.

The umpteenth disillusion adds up to every little - and not so little - wound inflicted on her, and she's saying the words before she can regain the lucidity to not to.

"I changed my mind."


	2. Chapter 2

Stefan smiles to himself at the sound of her breathless voice on the other end of the phone as she tells him, "I changed my mind." He had planted the seed of her little rebellion that afternoon and she'd seemed so against it, so sure she would have never faltered in her high moral position, but too much pride always brings a fast downfall and he had been counting the minutes to this moment.

This is what seduction is, after all, _enticing someone into doing exactly what they secretly want to do_. And deep inside, Bonnie wants to stop being invisible for the sake of her friends.

His answer is short, "I'll be there to pick you up tomorrow at 9 pm," before hanging up and turning off his phone. He's got no intention of giving her the chance to call it off on a regurgitation of conscience.

That night he flirts more than usual, and distraction helps him feed the women the needed silence to let his appeal set in. It is always a good thing to retreat, to give mixed signals. It makes his target fear the loss of the power he made her feel by giving her his attention after an indirect kind of approach.

Once he turns cold they throw themselves at him, and tonight is no exception. Only he is too distracted by the prospect of having Bonnie join in on his little quest for satisfaction and so he takes what he's offered in the back of the club instead of going to a more private place. He's not entirely happy with how he acts later, because he's got his standards to keep, but she seems fulfilled enough, by both his equipment and the exciting setting of their _petit coup rapide_ (she's turned on by the French language and he gladly obliged).

The next day all he has to do is make a few phone calls and then he can sit in his chair, ankles crossed on the footrest, reading _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ - the first edition of the libertine novel written by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, published in four volumes in 1782 – and wait.

Patrick is an old acquaintance – a sixty-two years old stylist made immortal by a vampire that declared she was unable to go on living without his good taste. All in all, she was unable to go on living because Patrick had not liked to have her make such a choice for him and had made her a dress with a highly inflammable fabric that had sparked into a fire during a private dinner that saw him as her only guest.

And when he enters his room followed by his assistants, Stefan barely look up from the yellowed pages as they place dresses all around.

"Mr. Salvatore," Patrick greets him with his with his usual picture-perfect smile, "What a pleasure to see you."

Stefan reciprocates with a more placid grin, amused by his hardly subtle scrutiny –even in the thirties Patrick never put too much effort in hiding the fact that he used to swing both ways.

"Likewise, Patrick."

Stefan rises from the chair and listens very carefully at the – almost poetic – descriptions Patrick gives of the dresses. He's worked with the best over the years, always with a different name, always with an uncanny desire for keeping behind the scenes. After all, his field of work is not really made for shy people and to those who don't know his peculiar feeding habits the choice of anonymity is more than a bit odd.

"Your lucky… _friend_ must be something," he comments stealing a glance his way as he observes the dresses with attention, studying their length and materials to envision them against Bonnie's dark skin.

"She is. Both something and just a friend," Stefan explains with a note of boredom.

"If you say so," the other shrugs and he watches the youngest Salvatore take his picks, pointing out at _this _and _this_ and _this one,_ going on and on_._ He's used to the eccentricity of his rich clients but the girl must be quite special if he's buying her _Elie Saab, Zuhair Murad and Valentino_, aside from the _Chanel_ and _Dolce & Gabbana_ accessories.

Stefan has just paid the check and is putting away his purchases when Damon enters his room with his light step.

"Are you going romantic on Rebekah?" he asks, "I remember her as more practical kind of girl."

"And you would know that, since you like to do _anyone_ I do," Stefan comments blank.

"Not really. When you'll take pity on Patrick and finally scratch his itch, I will _not_ follow," he says with as nonchalantly as he can, as Stefan mocks his habit to be the runner up with all the girls he cared about.

His little brother gives him no attention nor answer so he tries again, "I don't really see her wearing a gold Zuhair Murad."

"You're really good with fashion," Stefan says with a nod, "You should reconsider Patrick, you have so much in common. You both have no idea what to do with a woman."

It's the first vicious strike Stefan directs his way, it's a sign he's getting under his skin and yet pride has the better of him.

"Your ex-girlfriend says otherwise," he notes.

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" Stefan asks with an unaffected grin, destroying his sense of victory, "Both her and her sire bond," when he turns he puts away the last dress spread on the bed and decides to amuse Damon just to get him out of his way, or maybe to torment him a bit. He's ready to throw the dice and see what happens, it's not like he has anything else to do.

"But, anyway, you're not going to see Rebekah in this dress."

"Are you going to wear it yourself? Because I think you've been too optimistic with the size," Damon replies hoping for more info about the girl that made him go out of his way for her. Is he trying to conquer Elena back? Has Katherine come back to take advantage of his weakness?

"No, I am not, now if you'll excuse me…"

"Not really," Damon shakes his head, gaining a shrug from his brother.

"Okay then," he says, breaking his neck with a fast snap, and watching his limp body fall at his feet.

Stefan is actually happy his brother is a vampire, because this means he can break his neck over and over and over until his heart is content. And he grins down at him.

#

When Bonnie opens her front door she's wearing a grey wrap skirt print skirt and a white blouse. Her chocolate curls fall to frame her pretty face and she looks as nervous as he imagined she'd be.

He's looking right into her eyes when he tells her, "You're lovely," but as she thanks him he informs her, "You must change now," raising in front of her eyes a big, glossy black bag.

"What?" she asks, taking the bag as he put it in her arms.

Instead of answering her question he just sits on the sofa, "I'll be waiting here. Are ten minutes enough?"

"Yes," she manages to say with a confused expression, as she walks to the stairs and up to her room.

He knocks on the door of her bedroom as she is trying to zip up her strapless, lace and chiffon champagne dress and she's not sure he's waited for her permission to enter because as soon as she turns her eyes back on the mirror he's behind her.

"Let me assist you," he says, with a gallantry that's way out of the current century.

"Thanks," she says, "For the dress, too," she adds, "You shouldn't have."

She's clearly embarrassed and he decides that's a good moment to be annoyed at her.

"You should have stopped at thanks," he informs her, "Because you should let any man know they _have to. _We are dense creatures. We'll never understand anything you want or deserve if you don't say it."

"You seem to understand more than I'm interested you do."

He sinks his fists into his black pants and looks at her through the mirror, making her feel very self-conscious. So much so that she's tempted to hide, but since there's no way to, she unconsciously changes her posture, hunching her shoulders and turning her eyes.

"Stop," he warns her with a soft tone.

She looks back uncertain and he clarifies. "Stand right, chin high. You are the center of attention and you're going to enjoy it."

She nods at him, before turning around to announce, "I'm ready."

He looks at her with an endeared expression, explaining to her, "You're not."

"I am, and you said ten minutes," she reminds him.

"Yes, and you have to be late for another ten, because if your date won't wait for you, someone smarter will." She should be flattered; instead, his hard tone makes her tense. He's so close that whenever he speaks she can feel the ghost of his breath and her first reaction is to take a step back.

Stefan holds her fast, gripping her waist and taking her back, a bit closer than she was before. She curses at herself in her mind as she looks up into his eyes.

"Don't act like you're scared. You'll be the prey only when you feel like playing it that way," he tells her, touching her hair. "I like them," he says, "But be so kind as to straighten them and tie them up in a high ponytail."

"Why?" she asks.

"Can you do that?" he gently urges her, making her sigh in surrender.

She turns around, once again, to brush her hair and straighten the curls Jeremy likes so much.

"You should put some emphasis to your neck," he says, observing it intently, "The most innocent curves make men think of the soft, welcoming places a woman possess. Knees and shoulders," he says, putting his large hands on her caramel shoulders, "are more enticing then you'd think. A woman showing off too much has no allure, anyone can make an easy conquest, but only someone of value can have you," he says, boring a hole through her as he stares at her, "Remember that," he says, before taking a step back, crossing his arms on his chest to watch her tie up her hair.

"What now?" she asks, turning around once again, expecting a new _lesson_.

Stefan smiles and bends slightly towards her. His nose is near her cheekbone, and he moves down, down, down, smelling her body as he kneels in front of her.

He looks up at her with an intense gaze and she doesn't move, which he approves of with a grin. Truthfully her lack of movement is because her body refuses to work properly, not because she's not dying to run away from him, but still, he seems pleased and so she count it as a point in her favor.

"There was a bottle of perfume in that bag," he says, standing once again.

"Yes, and I used it," she confirms with a nod.

"In the wrong way," he informs her, turning around to take the bottle from her dressing table, "I smelled it way too clearly on your wrists, and there's a trace at the base of your neck."

"Which are the places where people wear perfume," she explains, bothered.

He is completely unaffected by her change of mood, instead he's slow and delicate as he takes the bottle and wet his index fingertip with a drop of liquid.

"Not if they know how to use it," he continues, patiently, "The scent must be so faint to be an extension of the fragrance of your skin," he says with a husky tone as he caresses a point behind her earlobe with his finger, "Only the one who'll whisper to your ear will smell it, like a secret between you and him," he says, moving his hand to her décolleté, saying, "With your permission," before pressing the tip of his finger up between her breast, "The right point would be lower," he informs her, looking right into her eyes, "But I would never take such liberty. Not without the lady's request."

"Do they often send you written invitations to put your hands in their cleavage?" she asks, in the futile attempt to break the tension. It is starting to get to her, the idea that she did something very stupid.

He chuckles – for her benefit, so that she will feel comfortable and calmer – and smiles.

"Sometimes I settle for an informal request."

"Very generous of you," but when she's done talking she sees him kneeling again in front of her, touching her behind her knees and her ankles.

When Stefan looks up again Bonnie is breathless and slightly aroused. If he's noticed, he's gentleman enough to not let it show. And a moment later he's offering her his arm with the most charming smile he's got.

#

He can feel her heartbeat against his biceps, as she holds the arm he offered when he helped her down off the car. Her breast is warm and soft against the hard muscles of his arm. He grins to himself, leading her to their table.

"It's sweet the way you hold on to me," he says. "I know you're really nervous because I can count the beats of your heart, but whenever you feel like seducing a man, do it again. Hold his arm like this, wearing this same expression," he explains, "A man wants to protect his woman, even if she's strong and capable, he wants to do it. It makes them feel worthy of your love," he adds, taking her hand to guide her to her chair, pulling it out for her.

When Stefan sits in front of her she reminds herself to sit with her back straight, trying to ignore her burning cheeks.

"You seem to know a lot about people," she says, resisting the urge to hunch her shoulders.

"They've been my hobby for a long, long time," he replies, waiting to see her distrust. She doesn't make him wait long.

"You mean, you manipulated them."

"I read them," he explains. "Some of them wanted to be lead out of their safe confines, and I used to do that. Sometimes. But I never forced anyone in any way. It is not funny when they don't have their free will."

And she knows way too well whose choice it is that lead her here tonight. She won't be hypocrite and cry wolf just because she can't bear the consequences of her decisions.

Bonnie looks around, trying to blend in. A voice inside her head asks her if she's insane. She doesn't belong here, she can't compare to the other girls inside the club. Maybe she should have realized that before Stefan drove for an hour just to play to her stupid whims.

"Bonnie, look at me," he says, holding her gaze as she does.

"I'll provide some liquid courage," he informs her, motioning for the waiter.

"I'm underage," she reminds him.

"I thought you wanted to indulge a little bit…"

Bonnie swallows and nods, and when he asks her what she would like, her rational mind, for just a passing moment, remembers Stefan's eyes as he was kneeling in front of her.

"Wine," she says, "White."

Their glasses were in front of them barely one minute later and she tried to go for some harmless conversation.

"This place has a very attentive service."

"Not really," he says, "I think the waiter wanted to please you."

There is no innuendo in his voice but her skin feels suddenly hot and she crosses her legs under the table, confused about what's happening.

She thinks he's trying to flatter her, stroke her ego, and he knows that, for he adds, "Didn't you ask yourself how I could pick out the right size for you?"

Bonnie bats her lashes and looks down at her dress, then up at him, "Is that a vampire superpower I wasn't aware of?"

"Men look at you more than you realize," he says. Tension can turn very easily into arousal and he hopes to catch the smell of her in the air. He will not try to seduce her, because she's still his friend and he can't give a woman anything more than sex, but he wants to indulge only a bit. After all, he's far from being unaffected himself.

"Moreover, I should thank you. Your company will keep me from making any effort."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that desire is both imitative and competitive. We want what others want, and if they think you want me, they'll desire will only increase."

"The same applies to me, then."

"I don't think you need to worry about that."

But she's still insecure. You don't wash away years of being someone's shadow with a few compliments and a fine dress. Even if the compliments do not give her justice and the dress is merely a rag on such a body.

"There is a trick," he starts slowly, smiling at her. "You can use it whenever you're nervous, or anytime you feel like."

"What trick would that be?" she asks, curious, taking her glass in her hand.

"You should think of sex," he says, casually, like's starting a joke.

"W-What?"

Her stammering makes him smile, and he decides he'll let it go this time.

"Whenever you want to feel attractive and you can't, you should think of sex. In detail. Imagine the touch of the man you're with or wanna be with," he says, caressing the wall of his thick glass of whisky with the fingertips of his right hand. "Think of the wet, slippery rubbing of flesh," he explains, leaning towards her.

"I don't think-"

"Think of his mouth on you," he cuts her words, "Thinking of sex changes people's aura. It's like a mute call no one can ignore. Even those who refuse to show it will be affected, only few of them can actually resist."

Bonnie takes a sip of her drink to swallow the knot in her throat. She wonders how much Stefan has been thinking about sex while he was with her, because she's desperately hoping for a reason why she now wants to touch him so much.

#

**Note**: I REALLY wanna thank alla-matta for the fabulous art she made for DTBH and everyone else for the kind support. I love you all.

**Note 2:** _petit coup rapide _means "quickie".


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